


The Storm In My Heart

by loveisntsillyatall



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Comfort, M/M, enjolras is scared of the storm, grantaire paints, like terrified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveisntsillyatall/pseuds/loveisntsillyatall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire thought he was is in for a night of relaxing, boozing, and painting. But when Enjolras unexpectedly shows up at his door soaking wet and shaking, his initial plans fly out the window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm In My Heart

_Scratch scratch_ went the sound of the old tabby cat's claws against the door to Grantaire's flat. It was a sound Grantaire had grown accustomed to as well as the animal itself; some might even say he was fond of the old bag of fleas. Initially she kept coming back around to his home, despite the many attempts to shoo her away. Hence the idea for her name: Chouchou. He let her inside. After all, he couldn't just leave the cat out there. Not on a nasty night like this one.

The weather was positively ghastly. Grantaire could hear the heavy patter of rain clearly on the roof of his home. However, he decided this was excellent weather for painting a masterpiece. And a good drink, of course.

He retrieved his art supplies and set up his easel in the living room area of his flat. The spot he eventually chose had a remarkable view of the dark and striking weather outside his window.

A great rumble, as if some mischievous god was playing a drum, could be heard from a distance. Thunder - a sound that generally frightens most people, but not Grantaire. The rumbling only lights a fire of excitement in him; sends a special kind of feeling straight to his bones. A feeling that words cannot express. Like something big might happen.

His movements with the paintbrush seem to move with a mind of their own. As if the storm outside was the conductor of an orchestra and Grantaire was merely playing his instrument. He feels the wind, rain, and thunder through each brushstroke-  Until a godforsaken knock at the door interrupts his concentration. 

_Who the hell could that be?_

The knocking didn't cease. It was persistent and frankly, annoying. Irritated, Grantaire made his way to the front door.

"Whoever this is, they're definitely going to get an earful about interrupting my masterpiece in progress." He was about to shout at the stranger as he opened the door, only to find that it wasn't a stranger at all.

It was Enjolras.

Enjolras was completely soaked to the bone. His wavy blonde locks were drenched and stuck to his face. Grantaire noticed that the poor man was shivering. No, _shaking_.

"Enjolras, what are you doing? Why are you out-?"

"-Please. You must let me in. I-" Another threatening noise erupted from the sky, causing Enjolras to grab hold of Grantaire's arm.

" _Please_ ," he said once more. Grantaire thought he saw fear in Enjolras' normally piercing eyes. Grantaire was stunned for a moment. It was odd because he had never seen this foreign expression worn by his fearless comrade.

"Yes, of course. Come in."

"Th-thank you Grantaire."

Grantaire ushered his unexpected guest inside his home quickly. "Why on earth were you out in such a storm?"

"We had just adjourned from a meeting at the Café Musain."

"There was a meeting today?"

"Yes." Aha. There was the Enjolras that Grantaire recognized. The pure annoyance was irrefutable.

"Well, you certainly can't go back out there anytime soon. Make yourself, er, comfortable," Grantaire said with a smirk. Then added, "If you even understand the meaning of the word."

“Oh ha ha ha, aren’t you just so _funny_.”

“Is that a laugh I detect from Monsieur E? It cannot be!”

“It’s called sarcasm. Something that I know for a fact that you are well acquainted with, Monsieur “ _Grand_ _R_.”

Grantaire smiled. He loved the banter between him and his chief. It always just felt so right. He could never imagine a better relationship between them...well, maybe that was a lie. Maybe he secretly wished Enjolras would someday wake up and realize that he shared Grantaire's feelings. Is that too much to ask for? He tried to push the thought from his head. He leaded the way into the living area, Enjolras followed suit.

"I'll grab you some dry clothes. I'll just be a minute." A short time after, Grantaire returns only to discover the most appalling thing.

"What did you _do_?!" Grantaire yelled, throwing the change of clothes to the ground. On his beautiful soon-to-be-masterpiece was a poorly painted stick figure holding a waving flag. And there stood Enjolras with his arms crossed, admiring his vandalism.

Grantaire was fuming at this point. "What were-? I just- Why?"

"Well, you always ruin my speeches at the meetings. What with your snarky comments and ramblings. All of which happen when you are intoxicated, I might add. I thought this was only fair."

"What about when I'm not intoxicated?"

Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

"But that was going to be my masterpiece!"

"My speeches are _my_ masterpieces." They were both silent.

"Here," Grantaire kicked the spare clothes over to Enjolras.

"Thanks." Almost immediately, Enjolras began to unbutton and shed his shirt.

"Woah, woah, woah! What do you think you're doing?" Grantaire exclaims, heat rising to his face.

"I'm getting undressed, what does it look like?"

"You can't just do that."

"Why not?

"It's just-"

"Come on R, you've painted naked guys in your art class haven't you? What's the difference?"

Oh, there was a _big_ difference. The models were just random guys. This was Enjolras for god's sake. Grantaire actually has feelings for-

_Wait. Did he just call me R? In a non-sarcastic way?_

"I-I'm gonna go make some cocoa..." Grantaire shuffled to his tiny kitchen. His mind was full of scattered questions, desperate for answers. And Enjolras stripping in his living area. Oh god. How was he going to survive his presence?

As he absent-mindedly mixed two mugs of hot cocoa, Grantaire was sure to spike his own with a little bit of grade A alcohol. He prayed that Enjolras had the new change of clothes on by the time he returned to the living area. For the sake of them both.

"Thanks," said Enjolras, taking the piping mug of cocoa.

"Let's try this again," mumbled Grantaire, sitting down to fix the disaster that was the painting.

In only a few minutes time, the vicious, rumbling thunder returned. At this, Enjolras shuddered and became very fidgety. He grabbed a pillow from the end of the sofa and clutched it, his eyes peering from over the top.

“What’s wrong?” asked Grantaire. 

All it took was a sudden bright flash that lit up the room to render Enjolras stiff with fear.

_Oh._

Grantaire knew that Enjolras would never in a million years admit that a mere thunderstorm frightened him. No freedom or no democracy, now that’s something Enjolras would definitely be scared of…

Grantaire reached out to him, grabbing his trembling hands.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” was all Grantaire could think of to say to comfort his friend. He sat down next to Enjolras, who simply nodded, no words uttered.

Another abrupt crash from the skies made Enjolras inhale sharply and leaned his head onto Grantaire’s shoulder. Shocked, Grantaire hesitantly placed a hand behind the trembling man’s head. His fingers ran through the damp golden curls. If only he could do this more often...

The storm raged on. It grew more harsh as time went by. All Grantaire could do was hold Enjolras in his arms and all Enjolras could do was let him.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, and maybe it had been. Enjolras' head had eventually fallen into Grantaire's lap. He had fallen asleep.

And then he noticed, curled up in a ball on the other side of him, was Chouchou. She was asleep too. Having these two here beside Grantaire filled him with a happiness he'd never really known. It felt good to be needed. It felt good to have Enjolras resting on him and breathing softly. He would love nothing more than to comfort Enjolras all the time. Any time.

Yes, his masterpiece could wait for this.


End file.
